better than an old photograph
by diancier
Summary: a collection of one-shots centering around Wally & Artemis.
1. hypothetically

**this is for soph, who wouldn't stop harassing me about writing something.**

**warning: the rating is subject to change with future chapters.**

**disclaimer: the rights to Young Justice are not mine, which is unfortunate, but I suppose I'll live. **

By the time they had finished dinner, which was an early birthday present from Dick and Barbara, Artemis was more than ready to get back to she and Wally's place and just get him out of that infuriatingly sexy suit. Therefore, you can imagine her displeasure when Wally pulled over and parked the car in a small dirt parking lot, turning to her with a huge grin.

"Wally, what—"

Before she could finish speaking, Wally was opening her door for her and, before she could even stand on her own, scooping her up into his arms, which was one of his irritatingly endearing habits. She heard the door slam and then Wally was running. As quickly as it started, he skidded to a stop and set her down on her feet.

"So, whadaya think?" he said anxiously, still smiling, but with a furrowed brow, as though he was afraid of her rejection.

A quick survey of her surroundings told Artemis that they were at an empty children's playground and she raised one eyebrow in question. "What are we doing here?"

"You said you never came to these as a kid," he said with a shrug. "So I thought I'd show you what you've been missing."

Artemis's gaze softened and her lips tugged into a smile. It was a sweet gesture—very _Wally_. However, this didn't exactly do much to change the fact that all she wanted was to be home, in bed, with her amazing boyfriend. "You didn't need to do this."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't show you the wonders of public children's playgrounds?" he asked with a grin, taking her hand and tugging her over to the swings.

"_Wally_—" she started to protest, but her complaint was silenced by a swift peck on the lips and she sighed in defeat before plopping herself into one of the swings. He grinned in a triumph and stepped behind her, putting his hands on her waist to give the swing a small push, laughing when Artemis swatted his hands away. "I can do it on my own, Baywatch." She throws in the old nickname teasingly, smirking when it draws out the desired response.

Wally whined in his throat and, even in the dim lighting, Artemis could see his cheeks flush red as he plopped into the swing next to her own. "_Babe_, I told you not to call me that." She could tell that he wasn't nearly as upset as he sounded, however, because of the way his lips turned up in a fond smile and she knew that they were both remembering the first time he met, with him in his red swim trunks, tripping over his feet, and her with her snark that was a kneejerk reaction to the cute boy who had just stumbled out of the Zeta tube.

A comfortable silence settled over the two as Artemis tried to push off the ground to get her swing into motion, but hadn't quite gotten the hang of it, and Wally watched with a stupid smile on his face.

And then, out of the blue, Wally blurted out, "So, hypothetically, if I asked you to marry me, what would you, still hypothetically, of course, say?"

Artemis froze, her expression comparable to that of a deer caught in headlights. "What?" was the first thing out of her mouth.

"I asked what you, hypothetically—"

"I heard you the first time." There was a second spell of silence between the two, although this one felt considerably heavier to them both. When she noticed that the hopeful look on Wally's face had very quickly been replaced by a vaguely hurt one, she finally said, "Well, hypothetically, I would say yes."

Wally broke into a grin. "That's—that's a relief."

Artemis laughed and, after a pause, asked him if he wouldn't mind pushing her swing, because she just could not figure it out. He pulled her swing closer to his by the chain and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, mumbling a quiet "absolutely, babe."

After Wally had gotten her swing moving, Artemis was starting to realize what it was that kids found so enjoyable about it. It was actually fun, which was something she hadn't had a lot of as a child.

"I knew you'd like it!" Wally exclaimed triumphantly when she finally stopped, placing his hands over hers on the chains of the swing and standing in front of her, looking down at his laughing girlfriend with a smile.

"You win," she admitted, stretching up to kiss his cheek. "But only if you can catch me." She flashed a smile reminiscent to that of the Cheshire cat before ducking under his arm and sprinting for the jungle gym.

It was silly and childish—and, not to mention, completely pointless to run from a speedster—but Artemis couldn't have cared less if she tried.

Wally caught up easily, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and spinning in a circle with his face pressed into her hair before setting her on her own two feet again. She laughed, turning to face him, to find him down on one knee, beaming up at her. He grabbed both of her hands in his and cleared his throat. "Artemis Lian Crock—"

"Yes!" she cried, fisting her hands into his button-down shirt and pulling him up to meet her lips. Wally's eye widened for a moment before he put one hand on her hip to pull her flush against his own body and let the other tangle into her hair.

When they finally came up for air, Wally fumbled to pull the ring box out of his pocket. "You ruined my speech," he told her, looking at her with a tenderness that was reserved for her and only her. He flipped open the box to display the simple diamond ring that somehow took Artemis's breath away and made her eyes start tearing up, although she wouldn't admit it out loud. "Do you li—Artemis?" Wally's brow furrowed when he saw her face. "What's wrong?"

Instead of tell him that _nothing is wrong, you idiot_, Artemis just flung her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and peppering it with light kisses. "I love you."

Wally didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in return, pulling her close and pressing his lips to her hair. "I love you, too, babe."

And if that ring had been worth all of last month's salary, Wally didn't know what was because it looked even better once he'd slipped it onto Artemis's finger.


	2. lion-hearted girl

**woo! I am on a roll. uh, this just kind of poured out. I actually have no idea where it came from. it's a bit rushed and about half the length of the first, but I am way too tired to give a flying fuck ugh. sooo, without further ado, here's the next one-shot!**

Kids like Artemis Crock grew up too fast. She had her entire future shoved at her at the young age of six. Artemis Crock was six-years-old when she started training to be a murderer.

"Artemis! Take the shot. _Now_." She heard Sportsmaster's growl from somewhere to her left, but her eyes never left her target, a whimpering politician who kept babbling about his wife and kids. For a moment, she almost believed that she would—that she _could_—do it. She believed, if only for a second, that she could shoot a man through the heart without an ounce of remorse.

What kind of ten-year-old girl would consider killing a man?

Artemis squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her bow, loosening her draw.

"Shutting your eyes won't make the problem go away, girl." Her father's voice was right next to her this time and his hand had her shoulder in a vice-like grip. "_Take the shot_."

She opened her eyes, letting them flicker to her father and then to his clenched fist, before once again drawing the bowstring back, staring straight into the terrified eyes of the man she was about to kill in cold blood. She let go. The bowstring snapped back into place and the arrow flew.

She didn't miss. She never missed.

Was he thinking about his children? Will they ever know what happened to him?

"Good girl," Sportsmaster said gruffly, the hand on her shoulder squeezing just enough to make her flinch before he walked away.

She didn't feel good. How was she expected to feel good when she had just ruined a family—killed someone's father?

That night, her dreams were filled with screams and her own hands were covered in blood and she woke up screaming. She didn't fall back asleep that night.

* * *

"What are you doing?! Damn it, _shoot_ already," her father's voice roared through her communicator.

Artemis was fourteen. And, over the course of those four years, she had learned a few things about herself. Artemis Crock wasn't a scared little girl and Artemis Crock wasn't a bad person and Artemis Crock _wasn't a murderer_. Artemis Crock was strong and brave. She was _good_.

The bow slipped out of her hands, clattering to the ground. "No." Her voice didn't quiver, didn't show just how terrified she was. The woman her arrow had been aimed at scrambled to her feet and ran, clutching at her broken nose.

"_What_ did you just say?" Sportsmaster's voice was even, the way one would ask how your morning was, except the undertone was deadly, like the cold blade of a knife held against your throat.

"No. I'm done," Artemis spit into the com, before unhooking it from around her ear, dropping it to the floor and bringing her heel down _hard_.

It took her three days to finally catch a bus back to Gotham. But, when she did, Artemis didn't go home. One week, four days, and six hours was how long she slept on park benches or sometimes not at all. One week, four days, and six hours later, Paula Crock was released from Belle Reve. One week, four days, and six hours later, Artemis Crock was _free_.


End file.
